


A Grand Day At Work

by BookLoverL



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale deals with customers, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Gen, Zebediah the snaby helps, my own take on the wiggleverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookLoverL/pseuds/BookLoverL
Summary: Zebediah is bored - all his sniblings are asleep, after all, and Father is out. So he asks Azirafather if he can help in the bookshop.Aziraphale says yes, of course.But why do customers have to be so rude and try to buy things all the time?
Comments: 37
Kudos: 124
Collections: Wiggleverse





	A Grand Day At Work

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Kedreeva for coming up with the Wiggleverse in the first place and giving us all such adorable snabies!
> 
> While I enjoy the existing Wiggleverse fics, I'm coming up with my own names and personalities for the snabies in my own timeline, because then I don't have to ask anyone anything before I write it. ;) Thanks to everyone who's written stuff so far though, because I love all of it.
> 
> Introducing Zebediah, a tiny noodle who just wants to help Azirafather...

_Azirafather?_ asked Zebediah, who was coiled around a rock in the terrarium, lifting his head gently.

“Yes, Zebediah?” said Aziraphale, who was home alone with his and Crowley’s new children. Crowley was out, causing some sort of temptation. Or perhaps inventing bebop again. Aziraphale wasn’t sure.

_Climb on… climb on Azirafather’s head?_ asked the little snakelet, yellow eyes pleading. Nearby, his siblings were snoozing.

“Whatever for?” asked Aziraphale.

_See everything from there,_ said Zebediah. _And help with customers!_

Aziraphale considered it. It would certainly confuse the customers, if he was seen with his child riding around on his head. He thought of all the new and interesting ways he could refuse to sell people things.

“Certainly, my dear,” he agreed. “But do be careful!” He put his hand into the terrarium, and Zebediah wriggled happily onto it. Then Aziraphale lifted his tiny son up to his head.

The little snake soon settled happily in a little coil, black scales standing out clearly amongst Aziraphale’s white-blond curls. “Alright up there, dear?” Aziraphale asked.

_YES!_ Zebediah shouted. _Can see everything! Can even see w-world en-kik-lop-edd-ia!_

“Encyclopedia,” Aziraphale corrected. The encyclopedia was stored on the highest shelf in this part of the bookshop. “I could read it to you later, if you like.”

_What is encyclopedia?_ asked Zebediah.

“It’s a book about all sorts of different things about the world,” said Aziraphale. “This one is from the early twentieth century. It even has pictures, I believe.”

_Pictures!_ cried Zebediah. _I like pictures! But first, I help with customers._ He wiggled a little on the top of Aziraphale’s head. It tickled.

“Yes, of course,” said Aziraphale, smiling. “I’m sure you’ll be very helpful.

Making sure his son stayed firmly balanced on his head, Aziraphale made his way out to his desk counter, sitting behind it and snapping the door sign to _Open_. “There,” said Aziraphale. “Now we might get customers. And we can say we’ve opened for the day, so when your father gets back we’ll all be ready to go for tea at the Ritz.”

_The Ritz,_ hissed Zebediah. _Does Ritz have mice?_

“I’m sure they do,” said Aziraphale.

(And indeed, later that day, a rather surprised sous-chef would find themselves mysteriously preparing honeyed dormouse for six.)

It wasn’t long before the first customer of the day arrived.

The customer was a young woman in business dress who looked rather busy, but who seemed unable to go past the bookshop without coming in. She was juggling several shopping bags already, but there was a gleam in her eye when she looked at the books, like she wanted to reach out and touch them. Any bookshop owner who actually _wanted_ to sell books would have loved a customer like this.

Aziraphale was not that type of bookshop owner.

He looked coldly down at his desk, and increased the dusty smell slightly.

The girl coughed, which had the beneficial effect of distracting her from trying to put her fingers all over his signed copy of _Dracula_. Zebediah watched curiously from his perch atop Aziraphale’s head.

Still, this girl was not easily deterred. She looked at the shelf again, and, after a little browsing – miraculously, she restrained herself from touching any of the books, her hand merely hovering over each of the spines instead – she selected _Frankenstein_.

Well, that had been Shelley’s seminal work. She couldn’t have that one. Certainly not. That wouldn’t do at all.

The girl was walking over to the desk now, bringing the book with her. Aziraphale kept staring at the desk.

A few minutes passed.

“Ahem,” said the girl. Aziraphale ignored her.

“ _Ahem,”_ said the girl again. “Sir!”

“Can I help you?” said Aziraphale, staring at her coldly.

“I’d like to buy this,” said the girl.

“I’m afraid not,” said Aziraphale. “That’s not for sale.”

_Not for sale!_ hissed Zebediah, echoing him. To the human, of course, it would just sound like a regular hiss, Aziraphale supposed.

“It was on the she- is that a snake in your hair?!” exclaimed the girl. Aziraphale used the moment of shock to miracle _Frankenstein_ under the counter.

“A snake? Why would I have a snake in my hair?” said Aziraphale. Zebediah wiggled his tiny tail. _I’m in Azirafather’s hair!_ he hissed.

“Sir, there’s a live, hissing snake on your head right now.” said the girl. “Wait- where did the book go?”

“As I said, that one’s not for sale,” said Aziraphale. “And I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s on your head – it’s wiggling its tongue at me!!!” said the girl, beginning to sound alarmed.

“Excuse me, there are no _its_ around here,” said Aziraphale. “Now, please leave. You’re causing a disturbance.”

“The snake that’s – fine. How about this book?” The girl went back to the shelf and pulled out _Dracula._

“That one’s not for sale either,” said Aziraphale.

_That’s right,_ hissed Zebediah. _Azirafather’s books! You not steal them! This is shop, not library!_

That reminded Aziraphale – at some point he really needed to tell the children how actual shops worked. Perhaps Crowley could take them to one of those newfangled malls sometime.

The girl pulled another book off the shelf, this time at random. It was a lesser known philosophy book, and the author had had some very interesting theories, Aziraphale recalled. Shame about the early death.

“That one’s five thousand pounds,” said Aziraphale. It was a first edition, after all. And it was signed.

“Five thousand -” sputtered the girl. “You’re ridiculous. No wonder you’ve got a snake on your head. Fine. I’m leaving. I’m leaving this ridiculous shop and I’m going to somewhere else. I hope you go out of business.”

“Oh, I assure you, I won’t go out of business,” said Aziraphale. “But thank you for the concern.”

The girl slammed the door as she left.

“Good work, Zebediah,” said Aziraphale.

_Thanksss, Azirafather!_ said Zebediah. _I help good?_

“Yes, you helped… err… good,” Aziraphale reassured him.

The next customers to show up were not actually customers, not really. They were a group of three university students, and after their first visit, on realising Aziraphale was not going to sell them anything, they had negotiated the ability to read some of the books, provided, of course, that they handled them with care, and never tried to remove them from the premises.

“Hello, Mr Fell!” called the first, Yolanda. “How’s business?”

“Good, as usual,” said Aziraphale. “How are your studies going?”

“I passed my assignment!” said Yolanda. “Thanks for that help with the essay...”

“It was my pleasure,” said Aziraphale.

“Is that… is that a snake on your head, Mr Fell?” asked the second, Danny.

“Ah, yes!” said Aziraphale. He addressed all three students. “Yolanda, Danny, Tunia – please meet my son Zebediah!”

“Your… son?” asked Danny.

“Yes, that’s right,” said Aziraphale. “He and his siblings hatched just a few weeks ago.”

_Hello, humans!_ hissed Zebediah.

“Oh!” said Yolanda. “Your, uh, your Crowley does like snakes.”

“That he does,” said Aziraphale.

_Father is best snake!_ said Zebediah.

“He’s so cute,” said Danny. “Such a good snake… what’s his name?”

_Zebediah!_ hissed Zebediah.

“Zebediah,” said Aziraphale.

“Hello, Zebediah!” said Danny. “Aren’t you beautiful?”

“Whatever,” said Tunia. Aziraphale frowned a little.

“Tuney!” said Danny. “Be more enthusiastic! This is the man’s son!”

“Right,” said Tunia. “I think I’ll stay over here with my book, though. But I’m glad you’re happy, Mr Fell.”

“Sorry about her,” said Yolanda. “She’s had a bad week.”

_She’s rude,_ hissed Zebediah.

“She just doesn’t like snakes, I think, dear,” said Aziraphale. “Some people don’t. But we do, don’t we?”

“He’s beautiful,” said Yolanda. “Tuney’ll come around, you’ll see.”

“I’m sure she will,” said Aziraphale, and indeed, it would be so.

Several more customers came in throughout the morning, and each time, Aziraphale, Zebediah, and the three students worked to scare them off. There was a person scared off when Yolanda idly commented that Zebediah was venomous (though, in fact, like his father, he wasn’t, unless he wanted to be). There was a herpetologist who was successfully distracted from her desire to purchase _On The Origin Of Species_ by her desire to coo over such an adorable baby snake. Aziraphale liked her – he wouldn’t mind if she showed up again. There was even a man who came into the shop, and, spotting the snake, screamed and turned right back around and left. They’d all laughed a little over that one.

‘ _I that scary?_ Zebediah had asked.

“No, Zebediah,” said Aziraphale. “Some humans are just scared of snakes.”

_Father that scary,_ said Zebediah. S _aw him scare someone._

“Yes, he does that sometimes,” said Aziraphale.

The customer right now was proving to be a bit of a tricky one.

None of the usual soft tricks that Aziraphale tried were working. He’d marched forcefully into the shop, a man on a mission. He wasn’t put off by the unwelcoming aura. The sudden increase in dustiness didn’t phase him one whit. And the deliberately esoteric categorisation of books was no obstacle to him, as he was clearly willing to search every shelf to find what he was looking for. And, to top everything off, while he’d clearly seen Zebediah perched on top of Aziraphale’s head, he was completely unbothered by it.

Eventually, the man found the book he’d been looking for – and it was one of the Bible misprints! Oh, no, no, no. It would be a _disaster_ if he had to part with that one. He glared daggers at the man’s back as the man pulled the book off the shelf, handling it roughly.

_Azirafather ok?_ asked Zebediah.

“I need your help for this one, Zebediah,” whispered Aziraphale. “We can’t let him take that book.”

_Ok, I help!_ said Zebediah. _I hiss at him! I scare!_

“Yes, that will work nicely,” whispered Aziraphale. As the man approached the desk with the book, he made sure to look as unwelcoming as possible, even looking the wrong direction completely. The man shivered, but seemed resolved.

“Hey!” he said. “You there! I want to buy this!”

Aziraphale ignored him.

“Are you deaf or something?” said the man. “This is a shop, I want to make my purchase! Are you even listening?”

Aziraphale ignored him again. Well, that was rather rude, he thought. This man _certainly_ didn’t deserve Aziraphale’s Bible.

_Don’t like him,_ hissed Zebediah.

“How did this idiot even get hired?” said the man. He reached across the counter and waved his hand in front of Aziraphale’s face. “Hey! I’m waiting to buy something here!”

Finally, Aziraphale swivelled round to face him, pinning the man under his steely gaze. On his head, Zebediah hissed, long and slowly, raising his head.

“Finally I got your attention! Now tell me how much this is so I can buy it.”

Aziraphale slowly drew out a thick file from under the counter, and pretended to be checking it for the price. “Let me see,” he said. “This may take some time.” Meanwhile, while Aziraphale was ‘searching’, Zebediah carefully slid off the top of his head and onto his shoulder. As the minutes passed, the little child began to wiggle down his arm.

“Hurry up!” said the man. “I haven’t got all day!”

“I’m afraid it takes as long as it takes,” said Aziraphale.

Zebediah dropped gently off the side of Aziraphale’s arm, and slithered over to the misprint Bible, which the man had left on the desk. Hissing softly, he crawled up onto the top of the book. _My book now,_ he said.

“That’ll be fifty-thousand pounds,” said Aziraphale.

“Fifty-thousand pounds!?” said the man. “That’s ridiculous! The market value of this book is more like five thousand! I demand to speak to your manager.”

“I’ll just get him for you,” said Aziraphale.

He got up, opened the door to the back room, walked in, walked out again, and came back to the desk.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m the owner. Can I help you?” 

The man, though, was not looking at Aziraphale any more. Instead, he was staring, horrified, between his hand and Zebediah.

“Your ridiculous pet snake just bit me!” he cried. “You – you’ve had that thing on your head the whole time! You’re – you’re insane!”

_He tr_ _y_ _to take book and not pay!_ hissed Zebediah. _I stop him._ _O_ _nly_ _will_ _hurt him for a bit…_

“Excuse me,” said Aziraphale, in a voice that would have made Gabriel think twice. “My child is not a thing, nor a pet. And if he bit you, it was clearly for a reason. Perhaps if you were not a book thief, you would have better luck.”

“You’re – you’re completely mad!” cried the man. “I’ll get you fired for sure!”

“As I said, I’m the owner,” said Aziraphale. “I’m afraid neither this book nor any other book here will be for sale to you at _any_ price. I suggest you try Waterstones. Good day.”

“You – you – ugh!” The man glared at him, still clutching his injured hand, and turned to leave. At that moment, the doorbell chimed, and Crowley entered the shop.

“Angel!” said Crowley, beaming. “How are you? I’ve got doughnuts…”

“Angel!?” shouted the customer. “He’s a devil! He’s a terrible person! His horrible little snake bit my hand!” In one moment, Crowley’s demeanor changed completely.

“Did he now?” asked Crowley, dangerous. He paused, lowering his sunglasses, and leaning in towards the man, who froze in fear, primal instincts finally kicking in.

“Call my child horrible again and sssee what happens,” said Crowley. “Go on, I dare you.”

Slowly, the man spoke. Apparently, his primal instincts weren’t enough. “Your – sir – ma’am – your _angel_ – refused to sell me anything. And then – your _horrible pet_ bit my hand.”

Checking none of the other customers were watching, Crowley shifted, just for a moment, and hissed loudly. Screaming, the man ran outside.

“Really, dear,” said Aziraphale. “Was that entirely necessary?”

“Yes,” said Crowley. He sauntered over to the counter. “Zebediah! What are you doing in here?”

_I help Azirafather!_ said Zebediah. _We scare customers!_

“Great job, spawn,” said Crowley, looking proud. “I brought something for you.” He placed a pile of tiny unwrapped chocolate coins on the desk.

_Chocolate!_ said Zebediah, and immediately unhinged his jaw to eat the first one. Aziraphale smirked, watching.

“Cause enough chaos for your liking?” he asked Crowley.

“You’ll like this one,” said Crowley. “I set the music in the shopping centre to play _Baby Shark_ on loop.”

_What’s Baby Shark?_ asked Zebediah.

“It’s a song that I am never, ever, ever letting you listen to,” said Crowley.

“That does sound evil,” said Aziraphale. “My dear, you know you don’t have to fill a temptation quota any more?”

“It’s very evil,” said Crowley. “Because of this, less people will go to the shopping centre, and instead they’ll go to the market, where there’s classical music on loop instead. And then, they’ll all get on top of each other. Lots of frustration.”

“Oh, very clever,” said Aziraphale. “Supporting all those little independent traders, getting people to avoid chain stores…”

“That’s not why I did it,” said Crowley, but he was blushing.

Over in the corner, the three university students were watching stealthily and pretending not to listen. There were a number of ways, of course, in which they’d noticed Mr. Fell and Mx. Crowley being very unusual indeed, but they’d unanimously decided that they’d probably get better grades if they didn’t comment on anything.

_Of course Father clever,_ said Zebediah. _Father best snake._ Crowley blushed.

“Ngk,” he said.

“He is, isn’t he?” said Aziraphale. “And you, too, Zebediah. And your siblings. I love you all so very much.”

“Nmph,” said Crowley. “Thanks, angel.”

_I love you and Father too!_ said Zebediah.

“L-love you too,” said Crowley, still blushing. “What was with that customer before?”

“Oh, he was dreadfully rude,” said Aziraphale. “I don’t want to think about him for a moment longer.”

“Well, he’ll have the shock of his life when he gets home,” said Crowley. “But whatever you want.”

“Of course,” said Aziraphale. “You mentioned doughnuts?”

“Here,” said Crowley, and handed them over.

“Later, I thought perhaps the Ritz?” said Aziraphale, fishing the first doughnut out of the paper bag. They were from that little bakery a few streets over. And warm, too – just how he liked them.

_Azirafather says_ _Ritz has_ _mice!_ said Zebediah.

“The Ritz,” said Crowley. “Yeah, great idea. We’ll do that.” He turned to the students in the corner. “Shop’s closed! Time to go now!” Getting the idea, the three hurriedly picked up their things.

“Your child is really beautiful,” said Yolanda. “Lovely scales.”

“I know,” said Crowley. “Now, come on, out with you. Things to be doing, and all that.”

“Yes, sir,” said Yolanda. “Thanks for letting us stay here, Mr. Fell!”

“Most welcome, dears!” said Aziraphale. “Do come again!” And with that, the students left.

_Humans weird,_ hissed Zebediah. _We get mice now?_

“Yeah, we’ll get you some mice,” said Crowley. “Let’s just go wake your siblings up first, yeah?”

_Then Ritz?_ said Zebediah.

“Then the Ritz,” said Crowley. “How many waiters do you reckon we can confuse this time?”

_...all of them!_ hissed the little snakelet.

“Crowley!” said Aziraphale. He was smiling, though.


End file.
